A Cloud Is Coming - Finding A Hiding Place From Calamity

I was late coming from school not because there had been any after school activity but because I chose to visit a friend not far from our Primary School. Since it was getting rather late, I decided to use a shorter route that people rarely used unless they were very late on their way to or back from downtown Chingola on the Copperbelt of Zambia. It was a dusty road on the outskirts of our copper mining town of Chingola. The only development visible along that road was a catholic convent for nuns and a school for children. You would say that is typical of Catholics. Even the school had its main entrance on the city’s highway that led to other mining towns. The rest of the school’s length fortified by a tall wire fence was not accessible from the dust road.

The school on its own was not bothersome it was what lay about 800 feet beyond its school compound. A well- tended graveyard with tombstones, epitaphs, flowerpots, concrete angels and all the scary things that graced European graves in those days. I knew of no other grave apart from this one and as kids we were morbidly scared of even going near. We would not even point or arrogantly look at the graveyard except with fists and subdued looks. The graveyard was sacred and filled us with fear. It was not beautiful even if it was properly tended and meant to be beautiful.

Well, this is the road I decided I would use so I could get home before dusk. For some reason, the sun always seemed to set in the horizon just beyond the graveyard rendering an eerie look of quietness. Ahead of me I could see the dusty little road stretching into infinity, there was not a single soul in sight behind and in front of me. I walked quietly with my head bowed hoping secret eyes were not prying on me waiting to secretly pounce and send me into a quiet eternity like them!

The only other thing that graced the road was another high fence on the opposite side of the road from the convent. This particular wall fence was even higher with razor wire at its top. Behind this fence lived a huge community of Police and Prison officers with their families. It was a very big community filled with noisy kids some of whom attended my school. They all seemed to be distant and quiet within their fortified camp, I could only hear distant voices of them playing around. A few feet from where the fences ended grew what we called elephant grass. It was the dry season so most of the grass was dry and golden brown but still had the effect of making the road look really bushy all the way.

I looked at the fences on both sides of the road and walked on quietly hoping I would not disturb anyone, especially not the ones who would soon be on the left side of the road. I was fast approaching the end of the perimeter of the convent and the beginning of the wide expanse of that formidable graveyard. And soon enough I was there. I glanced over from the corner of my eye and saw all its objects bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Because the sun light was behind them, the tombstones and concrete angels threw their shadows across the graves making it look almost alive in its creepiness. I was mortified but bravely walked on, stealthily in my step just hoping to get over this road as quickly as possible.

Then a slight breeze began to blow across the grass. I do not know whether it was my imagination or it was really happening but the wind grew just a bit stronger and set the dry grass dancing grotesquely. I should have enjoyed the cool breeze but, no, my superstitions took the better part of me. My aunt Grace had tutored us diligently about the way of ghosts and their behaviors. One thing I knew for sure was that when ghosts walked, you did not see them, all you heard was them blowing by or towards you. As the breeze grew stronger and swept across the graveyard and howled through the tall grass, I was certain beyond doubt that all the dead had conspired to rise up against me for whatever reason and I was in big trouble.

At 8 years of age, I ran for the school during inter school sports activities as a sprinter and I was one of the best. Here is where that activity paid of in real life. I did not need to wait for any whistle to blow or someone to send me off. I broke into a run, and the more the wind blew, the harder I ran till I could not feel my feet. I was flying, flying over the dust road, my mind completely paralyzed by a kind of fear I had never experienced. It did not occur to me to scream for help or anything like that lest I woke up any other ghosts that were not after me. Ghosts of teachers, colonialists, missionaries, of men, women, the young and the old; ghosts mostly of white people, then black people, Indians and all in between were after me for no reason.

As I was running, I noticed to my relief a break in the high fence of the camp that looked like a secret hole someone had made. I did not stop but ran right through it into the camp and on towards the wash rooms where women stood, stooped or sat washing their dishes after dinner and gossiping. Some turned to look at me subconsciously while others carried on like there was nothing special. I walked past them into a group of Police Camp bullies (little boys) who for the first time were not a threat to me considering the huge population of ghosts I had just outrun. I was actually so relieved to be among fellow living human beings, I smiled pleasantly at the bullies and they did not bother me.

That night when I lay down to sleep, I heard the wind howling outside my window and the poles that held the roof over our verandah shook unpleasantly. I was sure the ghosts had come to to finish me off. Had aunt Grace not told me so? I struggled to cover myself completely in our blanket and even if I could not stop breathing heavily from fear, I hoped they would not find me. Soon I was fast asleep. What a day! I was in third grade then and I remember it today like it happened yesterday!

Fast forward to last year March 2011, about 35 years later, I was sitting in our living room browsing the internet on our mini laptop when my 15 year old who was doing her 11th grade just came in from school and sat by my side on the couch with this huge story about a cloud.

"Mom, have you heard that there is a cloud coming?”

“A cloud?”

“Yes, a cloud.”

“A cloud of what?”

“Did you not hear about the burnt nuclear reactors in Japan?”

“Oh, so you are saying there is a cloud of radiation coming here to America from Japan?”

“Yes mom, our teacher said we have to buy masks to wear or we will all die from the poisoning.”

“And where did your teacher get that from?”

“Well, he said he already bought a mask for himself but that they are quickly running out because people are panic buying."

I was quiet for a moment, thinking about the news I had been seeing splashed across the internet. Masked men at the reactor sites in Japan with huge hoses, flames of fire jumping into the heavens and a fearful press broadcasting the news about potential poisoning miles and miles away.

“If the government feels that we need masks to protect ourselves, they will make enough for everybody I guess,” I pondered quietly. On second thoughts I turned and looked at her.

“We do not need to be afraid about anything, whether we do get those masks or not, we will make it. God will see to it that we do not get harmed. What does Psalm 91 say?”

That is how that day, my daughter and I began reciting Psalm 91 which we both knew very well to assert our faith and remind ourselves that there is nowhere we can go for protection other than God.

Can you outrun your fears like I thought I could as an 8 year old being pursued by ghosts? Do you find yourself running from one thing to another in-order to feel safer or more secure? I have lived in Africa, but now I am in America. As an adult the fears that haunted me in my home country may not haunt me here, but fear is present here in America as well and comes in different forms. Some of the fears I faced back home were merely ghosts, here in America too. However, whatever the fear or its source, the emotions attached to them are real.

As I grow older my fears do not vanish, they just transform. So before I ossify in this fear, is it possible to overcome it and live fearlessly? We will have to understand as I proceed that overcoming our fears has nothing to do with getting rid of the source of our fear. It has everything to do with facing our fear courageously and trusting that we will remain unharmed whether emotionally, spiritually, mentally or physically. We overcome fear when it does not overwhelm us so much so that we become paralyzed and fail to function normally.

Be sure to follow this topic of 'The Cloud' because I will be sharing more and hoping we will all enjoy that safety which only God guarantees.